A Is For "A-guess-ive".....

Picture from here...

Today it hit home that my Youngest, in 15 short days, will be all of two hands old.

Two hands.

Ten.

*sigh*

Where does the time go?

I think back to both of their early days, the days before they walked and talked.  I wanted so much for Oldest to gain his independence and sure enough, by eleven months old, he was barrelling down the hallway of our perfectly sized duplex-style ranch.  The windows in the living room, though perfectly placed looking in from the outside, had sills approximately 18 inches off the floor.  This made for a prime standing area, just high enough to pull himself up and gaze outside at all that went on outside.  He frequently banged the windows and talked loudly to the squirrels, much to the cranky old bitty pansy-ass man neighbor's dismay.  Already five months along with Youngest, I couldn't wait for him to talk, to be able to tell me what he needed.

And oh, man, now that he does talk... jeez, what was I thinking?

Soon enough, he began to talk. His first word was "but-ton", clear as day.  Quickly followed by "bawl" and "truk", of course not having fully mastered the "T" sound, it came out sounding more like his father's favorite adjective.  I stumbled upon a postcard from my sister weeks ago, sent to him while on her honeymoon in the Caymans.  It was simply signed, "XOXOX Ant-tee Bet, and Unca Muck". His special names for them are perhaps my sister's favorite memory of Oldest's toddler days. That, and his favorite phrase of amazement, "Oh. My. Fu*k.".

Youngest was a different animal all together.  Perhaps in an effort to keep up with his older brother and not get left out of anything, he walked at six months. His vocabulary however, was stunted. He was quiet, a thinker, he took it all in and reacted physically instead of verbally.  The kids never saw us fight before the divorce.  After the divorce was a different story, and they were often caught up in their father's tyrannical rants. While I tried as much as I could to remove and protect them from the chaos, often times it was futile.  I blame myself for much of Youngest's internalizing of his feelings.  He saw and processed more at 1 years old than any child should have.

After extensive tests, random hearing screenings, and much bribery, it was determined that he indeed, had nothing wrong with him.  He just didn't have anything to say, evidently.  But when he did, it was never less than entertaining.

He has always been an early riser.  It was common to find our lights on at 4 am, home in full swing.  But as worked picked up, and their day care days got longer, it became apparent that I needed to find creative ways to get more sleep if I had any hope of surviving until he was 6. So, in those early mornings I would turn on the Disney channel and find his favorite, Stanley.


Stanley, for those who may not know, was really big into animals.  He had a "Great Big Book Of Everything" that he could jump into and learn all about every animal on Earth.  And of course, Youngest and I made him his very own "Big Book" and cut out various pictures of animals he was learning about.

One day, I think he was maybe three at the time, while driving in the car, out of the blue he started up a conversation....

"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"R swarks, aguessive or not aguessive?"
"What?"
"R tey agessive?"
"What?"
"R they car-nee-vores or do they eat care-rots?"
"OH! Most sharks are aggressive.  But some eat just snails, and not carrots or people."
"OK, tanks."

This was one of my favorite conversations with Youngest, because it sums up who he is.  He a complex thinker, always curious, and has a comprehensive vocabulary far beyond his years.  Like the time Tony was teaching him random Portuguese words and he came up with cabeca coucinho, loosely translated in English meaning "little butt head". A phrase he riddled his brother with for months.

A few nights ago while they were sitting on the couch, the usual banter went back and forth amongst the boys, Tony included.  There was mocking, there was spattering of sarcasm every where, and I'm thinking there was some faulty claiming of bodily gasses.    Oldest said something, I'm not sure what, Tony responded, and Youngest came back with a real zinger, totally throwing Tony under the bus.

Tony gasped.

*blinks*

Youngest replies... "What??? I'm just drivin' the bus."

To which a roar of laughter ensues.

Very a-guess-ive my young one, a-guess-ive indeed.